


A Quill in the Soil

by idyllic_idioms



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Stardew Valley Fusion, Gen, Gossip, Humor, Letters, M/M, Pre-Slash, Vegan Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyllic_idioms/pseuds/idyllic_idioms
Summary: Merlin inherits a farm from his grandfather in a remote valley. Arthur learns the art of letter-writing. The entire town has the hots for the new farmer. Elyan hates mayonnaise.
Relationships: Merlin (Merlin)/Everyone, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86
Collections: The Melee Challenge





	A Quill in the Soil

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Melee Challenge hosted by the Merlin Fic Book Club. My prompt was 'quill' :)
> 
> Though this is a Stardew Valley AU, it should be fully understandable for those who have never played the game. All you need to know is that the game is a ~~dating simulator~~ farming simulator where simple living is your highest priority. And uh, you win people's love by giving them your farming goods. Such as mayo.
> 
> Disclaimer: No chickens or goats were harmed in the writing of this fic. All my knowledge about farming comes from an indie pixel art video game from 2016.

Dear Merlin,

I can’t believe I’m writing you a letter. I can’t remember the last time I wrote one of these. Please, I’m begging you, get yourself a computer. Let me know when your e-mail is accessible again so we can quit this barbaric practice.

How is life on the farm? Did you get settled in alright? Once again my sincere apologies for the fact that I couldn’t come out and help you move in. You know how my dad gets when I take a day off. As if the corporation will crumble if the head marketer delegates their tasks for one day… As you probably already guessed, I’m writing this during working hours.

Farm or no farm—you’re such an idiot for breaking the lease on your old apartment. If the farm doesn’t work out, know my door is always open for you.

My hand is cramping up already. I hope to hear from you soon.

Kind regards,  
Arthur Pendragon

* * *

Hi Arthur,

Maybe your hand cramped up so fast ‘cause you’re such a wanker. Hah. 

Now that’s out of the way, hi! I miss you too! Looks like there’s no way for me to get connected to the internet in the Valley. So you’ll have to stick with old-fashioned letters 😉 ← look, we can draw emoticons now!!! 

I couldn’t even find a pen in my grandpa’s old cabin, I’m using a quill to write this. Hope you don’t mind the random ink stains. There shall be many.

I’ve gotten settled in pretty alright. The farm’s state is quite regrettable however. It’s completely overgrown with weeds, trees, and random rockfall. I’ve planted my first crops in the little free space I’ve gotten cleared up, but I’ll need to spend a lot of time fixing up the fields to make the land arable.

I’ve met a few of the neighbours. There’s a carpenter called Morgana that’s offered to build me some stuff on the farm for a small fee. The people in the village seem pretty nice. Nobody that can replace you, though. ❤️❤️❤️ (Do you like my lil hearts?) 

Write me back asap, miss you.

Hugs and kisses xoxoxoxoxo,  
Merlin

* * *

“Soooooooo,” Gwen says, leaning over the counter of Morgana’s carpentry shop. “You met him. The new farmer!”

Morgana bats her eyelashes at Gwen coyly. “So I did.”

“Well?” Gwen urges. “What’s he like?”

“Adorable,” Morgana says, smiling wide. “He’s got the biggest Bambi eyes and weirdly cute floppy ears.”

“Like my rabbits,” Gwen hums. The back door that leads to the kitchen opens and Morgause enters the room. 

“Are we interrogating my sister?” she asks, and she sits her arse down on a wooden chair that stands somewhat haphazardly in the middle of the workshop.

Morgana eyes her threateningly. “I haven’t sanded that down yet,” she warns. “Don’t bitch at me if you get splinters.”

Morgause rolls her eyes. “Tell us about the farmer already!”

“She says he’s cute,” Gwen says.

“Age?”

Morgana thinks for a moment. “Mid-twenties?” 

Morgause’s eyes light up. “Single?” 

“He moved here all on his own,” Morgana answers. “No one to help him with the move, either.”

Gwen clacks her tongue. “Poor thing.”

The shop’s front door opens with a jingle and in step Elyan and Lancelot. “Oh, you’re here already,” Elyan remarks to Gwen. “Did you come to ask Morgana bout the loose woodboard in the chicken coop?”

Gwen blinks back, confused. “Loose woodboard? No, we’re here for gossip about the new farmer.”

“The new farmer?” Elyan asks.

“Cute and single,” Morgause says. 

Lancelot smiles. “Gwaine also met him. He came to buy seeds at the shop. I think Gwaine’s in love already.”

“Well, Morgana? D'you think he's gay?”

Morgana rolls her eyes at her sister. “This is bi erasure.”

“Just want to make sure we even have a chance,” Morgause says, flicking her hair back.

“I’ll try to make a guess myself,” Lancelot says with a pensive look on his face.

“Great,” Elyan says. “Can we get back to the loose woodboard?”

“Pride’s next month,” Morgana says. “I can bring it up and see how he reacts.”

“It’s probably faster if we wait for Gwaine to ask him out,” Gwen says.

“A yes doesn’t mean anything. Remember the bi thing?” Morgana reminded her.

Lancelot smiles. “A 'no' doesn’t mean anything either. He could just be saying no to Gwaine in particular.”

“Morgana, please, I’m going to _pay you—”_ Elyan begs. 

Morgana smiles brightly, then waves her hand at the door. “Homework for everyone: flirt with the farmer. Now, everyone except Elyan, out!”

* * *

My dearest Arthur,

It’s been a few weeks, I know. You sent TWO letters. You must really miss me, huh? Sorry for the delay. I’ve just gotten finished with the first harvest, and immediately it’s time for the next batch of crops. Farming’s hard work, apparently. But my meals have never been this delicious and I get a good deal with the local shop-keeper selling back my produce.

You’ll never guess what happened! I got chickens!!! The local rancher invited me to her ranch and I just kind of fell in love with the chickens. I’m sorry about laughing in your face when you asked me if I was going to give up my vegan ways and keep animals. They were just so cute. I love watching them trot about on the big fields of my farm. 

I tried feeding back the eggs to the chickens but all they eat is hay and grass. It doesn’t feel right to eat the eggs myself, so to prevent them from rotting until I can give them to you I’ve started making mayonnaise. It’s been a while since I ate real mayo, so I’ve started giving the mayo away to the local villagers for a taste test. As a result, they've really started to warm up to me.

But that’s the crux, isn’t it? (Warning: the rest of this letter is going to be quite old-man-grumpy!) I moved to get away from PEOPLE. (I can hear your frown, Arthur. You know you don’t count as people.) But by the gods, what was I thinking? I should NOT have moved to a small town. Why couldn’t my grandfather have left behind a secluded cabin in the woods instead?!

But as it is, I can’t avoid going into the village to buy seeds and see that damned shop-keeper. Some of the neighbours keep dropping by for ‘random’ visits. I tried going into the saloon one night to socialise, but never again. In the big city, strangers have the decency to ignore one another. In this town, everyone insists on getting to know the new farmer. And Arthur, they’re all such busy-bodies! They ask way too many personal questions. 

I think the shop-keeper may have tried to ask me out? That’s who convinced me to go to the saloon. When I agreed, I didn’t expect him to show up at my door at nightfall! In my social awkwardness I gave him a jar of mayo and he lamented that he didn’t bring me a gift. And then… he just hung around? While I got ready? It was so weird.

We went to the saloon together and I still don’t know if it was meant to be a date or not. Then I got swarmed by random people so I went home for some peace and quiet. With my sneaky skills I got away from the shop-keeper unnoticed but then this other guy called Lancelot tried to escort me home and I wanted to scream. 

The only person who seems normal is one of the ranchers. (They’re brother and sister, I think.) His name is Elyan and he absolutely hates my mayo. I love Elyan.

But of course I love you more 😉😉 

Kisses hearts and love ❤️❤️❤️ ,  
Merlin

* * *

Dear Merlin,

Finally! Was it that hard to make some time for me? I slave away every day to pick up a pen and painstakingly write letters to my oldest and dearest friend stuck in this backwards village and THIS is the thanks I get?

I kid, I kid. 

(But I should get you a pen. Your quill-skills haven't gotten any better. I struggle to read your writing through the stains.)

I can’t believe my vegan friend got chickens! I’m very happy for you that the farming life is going well. It sounds like great fun.

How is money coming along? Your letter and your parts about the mayo got me thinking about what a great business you’ve got going. You have a strong unique value proposition: organic produce along with the free-est range chickens imaginable. I’m sure that you’re not producing enough to compete with the big names, but you could go into the city’s farmer’s market and sell your produce there. Or have someone do it for you, if you’re too busy. I’m sure you could mark up the prices significantly. Or you could offer workshops to show people life on a small farm. For free, if money’s not an issue. I know you like propogandising sustainable living to people. Hey, do you remember goat yoga?

Sorry, that’s work bleeding through! I’ll stop now. Just think about it, ok?

Those villagers sound like monsters. Are any of them cute, at least?

Please give me a call if you can find a phone. I miss your voice.

Kind regards,  
Arthur Pendragon

* * *

Gwen immediately takes to the seat next to Morgana in the saloon. Morgana smiles back at her politely, but scoots further into the booth. A peculiar stench hangs around Gwen.

“Kidding season still, huh?” Morgana asks, waving her hand around in front of her face.

“Yeah!” Gwen says happily, unaware of the smell. “Got the last goat to give birth today. We have a bunch of kids hopping around the ranch now. They’re loud, but they make me very happy.”

“You sold some to the farmer, right?”

“Yeah,” Gwen nods. “How did you know?”

“Oh,” Morgana says, pushing at Gwen to get her out of the booth. “Let me get you the flyer…” All too happy to get up, she retrieves a flyer from the bar—ordering beer for Gwen in the process. Upon her return, she sits across from Gwen instead. She can breathe through her nose again.

Gwen grabs the flyer from her hands. “Baby goat yoga?” she reads aloud incredulously. “With _my_ babies?”

Morgana frowns. “They’re not really—yours…?”

“Oh, spare me the lecture,” Gwen says, annoyed. “The first time the farmer visited me, he gave me this whole spiel about how it’s inherently wrong to own a sentient being. Then he took _one look_ at the chickens, and boom, he was naming them.”

Morgana chews on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. She says, “He’s from the city. You know, the horrors of factory farming—”

“I’ve _seen_ you eat the mayo he gave you!”

“The jars keep stacking up! It’s only polite to accept a gift when it’s given.”

Both of them look up as two glasses of beer are set before them. Freya stands there, her eyebrows contorted in a dismal look. “Here you go,” she says, hesitantly. “Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but, um…”

“It’s goat smell,” Morgana supplies, motioning at Gwen.

“Hey! You try helping to birth seven goats in as many days and find time to shower!”

“Least you could have done is change your clothes,” Morgana mumbles.

Freya points at the flyer. “Are you guys going to the baby goat yoga in two weeks?”

Morgana nods enthusiastically, despite Gwen’s protests. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Freya says. “I don’t mind checking out the farm. Haven’t been there since the farmer moved there.”

“Ah,” Morgana says with a wink. “Checking out the _farm,_ huh? Not the farmer?”

From behind her, someone slaps his hand on the booth’s headrest close to Morgana’s head, causing her to jump up.

“I know _I_ wouldn’t mind checking out the farmer in sexy yoga positions,” Gwaine says, a bright smile on his face. “Scoot, let me sit. Hi Gwen, how are the goats doing?”

“They're all healthy, thanks. And don’t be a pig, Gwaine, it’s just yoga,” Gwen says. “Actually, my pigs don’t deserve to be compared to you. Freya, what’s your opinion of the farmer?”

A blush creeps up on Freya’s cheeks. “He seems nice.”

“You’re the only worthy contender, Freya,” Gwaine sighs. “If he’s straight, I hope he goes for you. Could I get a beer, please?” 

“I really don’t think he’s straight,” Morgana says. “But that date with you was a _disaster.”_

“It was just a first step in my elaborate plan of charming him into my bed,” Gwaine says. “It’s working, he keeps giving me mayo. I have many jars full of his mayo.”

“He gives _Elyan_ mayo, and trust me, Elyan’s made clear that he’s ace,” Gwen says. “Anyway, I’m over my crush on him. I just couldn’t date a vegan.”

“Wait, for real?” Morgana asks, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Yeah, and anyway, I’m leaning more towards a five on the Kinsey scale—”

“No, I mean—you wouldn’t date a vegan?”

Gwaine turns his head at the sound of the door opening: it’s Percival. He waves at his friend and jumps up to join him where he’s stationing himself at the bar, leaving behind the two squabbling ladies. “Percival! Ah, Freya, thanks for the beer. Please, another one for my friend here.”

“Thanks,” Percival says to Freya, then he picks up a flyer. “What’s this?”

“Sexy yoga with our sexy farmer,” Gwaine says contentedly. “Are you signing up?”

“The farmer’s our instructor? Huh, yeah, why not. The baby goats part sounds fun.” 

Gwaine elbows Percival in the side. “And the other parts? Or should I say, _Merlin’s_ parts? Do those sound fun?”

The door opens behind them again. They both look up, and speak of the devil—it’s Merlin in the doorway. His arms are filled with several stacks of mayo jars.

Percival jumps up. “Oh, Merlin! Let me hold the door for you.”

* * *

Dear Arthur,

I’m so happy! At my time of writing, we literally JUST got off the phone but I can’t wait to talk to you again. Also I remembered some stuff I forgot to tell you.

It was only two months ago that you called me an idiot for breaking my lease and moving into a farm. I have it in writing, don’t try to deny it. Yet you’re basically doing the same thing now. Well, you’re keeping your old apartment, but you told your father off and quit your job all the same. I can barely believe you’re doing this! I just want to say again that I’m very proud of you for putting yourself first. 

I forgot to tell you, but I brought the flyers about goat yoga to the saloon this morning. When I went back there in the evening, several people seemed very enthusiastic about signing up. We should have set a higher fee, I realise now.

Oh no, you’re turning me into a filthy capitalist. 

Maybe we should postpone the yoga session a couple of days? You’re no longer coming in just to check out my farm, you’re actually moving in.

(Writing that feels weird and familiar at the same time. Just remember that living together won’t be anything like university—this time we actually need to do some work, lol!)

The last thing I forgot to tell you is that I only have one bed so far and no couch or anything. So see if you can bring in an air mattress, ok?

See you very soon,  
Merlin

* * *

“Gwen,” Morgana hisses as she stops in her tracks. “Who is _that_?”

About half a dozen yoga mats are spread out in the grass. A couple of baby goats are happily hopping around the field. But, more importantly, in front of the yoga mats stands a man speaking animatedly to Merlin.

“I—don’t know?” Gwen says, her eyes wide in surprise. 

The blond-haired man has an inexplicably handsome face, eyes shining in a bright blue and his features symmetrical like a painting. His arms are nicely accentuated by the tank top he’s wearing, and his shorts do absolutely nothing in terms of hiding his toned calves. He bends over to pet a baby goat, and behind the girls, Gwaine whistles in a low tone. 

“I get it now,” he says. “I totally get it.”

“Get what?” Lancelot asks, but he too stops in his tracks when his eyes fall on the blond man.

“There’s a _reason_ the farmer’s immune to my impeccable charisma,” Gwaine says.

Elyan claps him on the back. “Don’t make assumptions, idiot,” he tells Gwaine. “Also, we’re here for yoga, stop drooling.”

Morgause also joins the group. “I thought he was single?”

“It’s been months,” Gwen says, shaking her head, “and this guy hasn’t visited _once_. It must be just a friend. Right?”

“We may as well leave now,” Morgana says miserably.

“Am I the only one here to do yoga in the middle of some cute baby goats?” Elyan asks desperately. 

“I’m here for yoga!” Percival pipes up. “But, uh, how do we find out who the other guy is?”

“Freya? Mordred?” Elyan begs.

Freya just blushes and Mordred ignores the question to ask, “The farmer is wearing jeans. Why is the farmer wearing jeans?”

By now, Merlin looks up at the crowd full of gossips that has gathered respectably out of earshot. He waves them over. “Come! Come! Give the goats some affection, they like it!”

One of the goats hops over to Gwen and with a smile she pets it. Elyan continues his walk and plops down on one of the yoga mats, reaching over to take off his socks and scratch a curious goat behind the ear. The rest of the group follows his lead, everybody claiming a yoga mat of their own. 

“Where are your yoga pants?” Gwaine asks, his question addressed to Merlin but unable to keep his eyes from sliding over to Arthur.

“Oh, I’m just here to watch,” Merlin says, and then blushes as he rethinks his wording. “To make sure the goats don’t hurt anyone, you know.”

“I thought you were the instructor,” Morgana says.

“Oh, no!” Merlin laughs. “I’m terrible at yoga. No, our instructor is my dearest Arthur here.” He points at the blond man, who shoots the group a disarming smile. Inaudibly, Gwaine groans. Gwen sighs. Mordred bites his lip. Elyan, with his back turned to literally everyone else yet still _feeling_ the reaction Arthur’s pearly whites elicit in the group, rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I’m Arthur, nice to meet you all,” Arthur says. “Incidentally, I’ve also officially moved in on the farm here as of yesterday. So you’ll see me around more often.”

“Really?” Morgana asks, wondering how she could’ve missed _a new person moving in_.

“So you’re the boyfriend then?” Morgause asks. Everyone except Elyan collectively holds their breaths.

“What? N-no,” Arthur stammers. Then he asks Merlin, “ _The_ boyfriend? Do you have a secret boyfriend I don’t know of?” 

“No!” Merlin exclaims, chuckling nervously. “No, I’m totally—single. Single, yes.” 

“How come no one knew I moved in? I thought you were out yesterday to ask people for an air mattress?”

“Oh, I asked different people,” Merlin says quickly. “Anyway, you’re the one that forgot to bring one!”

“How many beds does the cabin have?” Gwaine mock-whispers to Morgana.

“One,” she whispers back, a lot quieter.

“Oh, and they have to share the one bed,” Gwaine mock-whispers again. “Oh ho ho.” Merlin and Arthur, who clearly both heard him, simultaneously grow beet red.

Elyan’s about to speak up and offer the air mattress they keep around, but Gwen cuts him off before he can even get a word out. “Hey, Merlin, what did you name the goats?”

Thankful for the topic change, Merlin grins wide and points at the goats. Elyan leans back and rubs his forehead. Will they ever get to practice yoga?

At least nobody’s tried to offer him mayonnaise yet.


End file.
